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FIC: Phoenix Rising, Part 30 of 37
Title: Phoenix Rising, Part 30 of 37
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Snape/Lupin
Word count: ~9,500
Warning: AU; my own version of Year 6 (was written pre-HBP).
Author's notes: {} Indicates character's unspoken thought
Disclaimer: No money is being made off this story; consider it a little wish fulfillment on my part.
Sequel to: Always (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6), Summer Vacation (Part 1, Part 2), For Old Time's Sake (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5), Three's a Crowd (or, Summer Vacation II) (Part 1, Part 2), Return of the Raven (Part 1, Part 2), Phoenix Reborn (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8)
Summary: The new teachers' classes prove to be a little unorthodox, to say that least; Ron and Hermione quarrel over Dylan.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24, Part 25, Part 26, Part 27, Part 28, Part 29
***
Karasu held his class in a large, empty room with no desks, only wooden practice weapons hanging in racks on the wall and padded mats lining the floor. Draco grumbled under his breath that it was a waste of time for wizards to be learning physical combat. The crow-man, it seemed, had very keen hearing, because he overheard that remark.
"So, young Mr. Malfoy," Karasu said, "you feel you have no need for my lessons?"
Draco hesitated, torn between the desire to voice his scorn, and Snape's orders to play the role of the obedient schoolboy. He tried for some middle ground: "Meaning no disrespect, sir, but I don't understand how any warrior, however skilled, could stand against a trained mage. What good is a sword or a staff, when the mage can disarm, stun, or even kill the warrior with a flick of his wand?"
Karasu stared at him for a moment, his brown eyes unreadable, then he smiled, but it was not a gentle or reassuring smile like Chizuru's; even when he was being pleasant, the tengu warrior looked fierce and dangerous.
"Very well, Mr. Malfoy," Karasu said, "let us make a wager. I will attack you using no magic, armed only with my staff; you may use your wand and whatever spells you please against me. If you can defeat me, I will excuse you from these lessons. However, if I defeat you, then you will take the lessons and follow my instructions without complaint."
Theodore eyed their new teacher warily. Draco was smiling confidently, but Theo knew that the tengu would not have offered such a bargain if he didn't think he could win. "Um, Draco, maybe this isn't such a good idea--"
"Done!" Draco said to Karasu, ignoring Theodore. He took out his wand, and Karasu took a long wooden staff down from the wall. He bowed to Draco; Draco bowed back.
"On the count of three, then," Karasu said. "One...two...three!"
Draco lifted his wand and shouted, "Expelli--"
Moving with lightning speed, Karasu lunged across the room, striking out with his staff. Draco cried out in pain as it cracked hard across his knuckles, and he dropped his wand. He felt the tip of the staff touch his throat and he froze in place.
"If this were a spear, Mr. Malfoy," Karasu said, with no hint of smugness or gloating in his voice, "you would be dead now. Actually, even with a blunt wooden staff such as this, I could have killed you if I wished to. So you see, magic is indeed a powerful weapon, but it is not an invincible one. That is your first lesson: never underestimate your opponent."
Draco rubbed his sore hand sulkily, and Ron Weasley snickered. "You find that amusing, Red-Hair?" Karasu asked in a cold voice, and Weasley blanched and gulped. "You have just volunteered to help me demonstrate my next lesson to the class." He set aside his staff, and explained to Weasley and the class that he was going to start them off with basic lessons in unarmed combat before teaching them to use weapons. "And the first thing you need to know is not how to attack, but how to defend yourself." He demonstrated some simple evasive and blocking maneuvers--at least, they looked simple when he performed them. Weasley and the rest of the class soon found out what the mats were for--to soften the blow of being thrown to the ground. Draco's hurt pride was somewhat salved by the sight of Weasley being knocked on his arse, not once, but several times.
Draco and the other students soon found out that Karasu's lessons resulted in a lot of aches and bruises; the salves and poultices they made in Chizuru's class came in quite handy. Not all the tengu's lessons were violent, however. On some days, they played board games like Shogi (a sort of Japanese version of chess) to teach them strategy. "You must learn to predict what move your opponent will make," Karasu told them. "If you can determine far enough in advance what the enemy will do, the battle will be won before it is even started."
Draco reluctantly agreed that made sense, and he turned out to be quite good at the strategy games, winning a curt but approving, "Well done, Mr. Malfoy," from his teacher one day, and he could not help but feel a little surge of pride; Karasu tended to be taciturn, and blunt when he did speak, and handed out praise almost as sparingly as Snape did.
"It figures that a Slytherin would be good at being sneaky," Weasley muttered. Draco had won this current match over Weasley by subtlety and deception; he had feigned a frontal attack and sacrificed several pieces while quietly maneuvering another piece into position to capture Weasley's king. The Gryffindor boy hadn't even seen it coming. Of course, it didn't take a great deal of brains to defeat someone like Weasley, but Draco had not held back (remembering Karasu's admonition never to underestimate your opponent) and had played to the very best of his ability. Karasu seemed to be mildly impressed by his strategy, at least, even though it was probably wasted on Weasley.
"It figures that a Gryffindor can't appreciate a little subtlety," Draco retorted, but he was in such a good mood that his voice had little sting to it. In fact, he almost pitied the Gryffindors; they were always so straightforward, wearing their hearts on their sleeves ("Like fools," his father would say if he were here), that most of them could not appreciate or master the finer arts of guile and trickery. He detested being forced to work with them (Potter and Weasley were still his partners in Blackmore's class), but he was gradually growing accustomed to their presence, as annoying as it was. At times, the insults tossed back and forth between them almost became perfunctory.
"Mr. Weasley," Karasu said in an almost amused voice, "it is much less dangerous, not to mention much less painful, to defeat your enemy with your wits rather than hand-to-hand or sword-to-sword on the battlefield. And Mr. Malfoy, it is wise to never let success make you complacent."
"Yes, sir," the boys chorused. Each settled for giving the other a brief glare, then shrugged off the other's insult and started a new game. Subtlety and deception were required traits for a Death Eater, Draco mused to himself; perhaps Karasu's lessons would serve him well when he was finally allowed to take his rightful place among the Dark Lord's followers. Snape was right; Draco resolved to learn what he could from his new teachers, and someday the Headmaster might regret bringing them here when Draco and his friends joined the Death Eaters and used that knowledge against the old man and his allies...
***
Satoshi, unlike his two comrades, did not wear traditional Japanese dress, but rather wore robes similar to those of the other Hogwarts teachers; he even feigned an exaggerated British accent, much to his students' amusement, although it tended to slip when he forgot to concentrate. "We have survived all these years by being able to blend in among the humans," he told his students. "All that practice, I suppose, has made us talented Illusionists." He told them that his type of magic was similar to Transfiguration, but that only the appearance, and not the actual substance of the object, was changed. "For example," he said, "I could turn myself into a tea kettle." And in the blink of an eye, a fat, round black iron tea kettle sat on the floor in place of their teacher. He transformed back and added, "But if you placed me upon the fire, it would burn the fur off my poor tail." He sprouted a tail from his otherwise human form, and feigned beating out imaginary flames on it with a frantic air as the children laughed.
"Of course," Satoshi continued, "small, subtle changes are easier to make than large, dramatic ones. It is easier, for example, to change the color of Miss Patil's hair than to change her into a tea kettle." He lightly tapped his wand on Parvati's head and her dark hair suddenly changed to golden-blonde.
The class burst into laughter again and Parvati indignantly shouted, "Change it back!"
"Your hair is still black, Parvati," Satoshi replied calmly. "I have only put a kind of glamor upon it; if you look closely, you can see through the spell."
Parvati frowned at her blonde braid, and the other students stared at it closely as well. Her hair seemed to shimmer, and they rubbed at their eyes; suddenly they could see through the illusion, as if it were transparent, to the real color of Parvati's hair that lay beneath it.
"Do you think you can break the spell?" Satoshi asked.
Parvati took out her wand, tapped her braid with it, and said, "Finite Incantatum!" The illusion vanished and her hair returned to normal.
"Very good, Parvati!" Satoshi said cheerfully, clapping his hands together. "It is traditional to hand out points for a job well done, is it not? Five points to Gryffindor. As you can see, an illusion is easy to break if one is expecting to see it. Also, a wizard can see through an illusion more easily than a--ah, what do you call them? Than a Muggle. In order to create a convincing illusion, you must build it carefully, paying attention to detail. Beginners often make careless mistakes that render the illusion worthless. For example, tanuki cubs, when first learning to shapeshift, often forget little details--like their tails, for instance." He transformed himself into a tea kettle again, but this time there was a fuzzy striped tail growing out of it. The students laughed, and Satoshi became human again. "You see, no one would ever believe that was a real tea kettle!"
He set them to work changing--or more accurately, giving small objects the semblance of things approximately the same size and shape. Changing a twig into a pencil, for example, or a bottlecap into a coin. He also taught them not to transform an object completely, but to merely alter part of its appearance, such as changing the color of their hair, as he had done to Parvati, or changing the pictures on a deck of cards...
Which eventually led to trouble. Although Satoshi was very popular with the students, he was soon in hot water with the teachers, or at least with McGonagall.
"Headmaster!" McGonagall shouted, bursting into Dumbledore's office, dragging Satoshi along behind her like an errant student. Chizuru and Karasu trailed along after them. Dumbledore and Snape looked up with a start. "I'm sorry, Albus, Severus, I didn't mean to interrupt, but this is important!"
"My business can wait," Snape said in a surprisingly reasonable tone of voice, not out of any charitable feelings towards McGonagall, but rather out of curiosity. He eyed the tanuki, wondering what mischief the trickster had gotten himself into. Satoshi hung his head down, looking shamefaced and properly cowed, but Snape, with his fifteen years of experience teaching annoying Gryffindor brats, could see a mischievous little twinkle in the tanuki's eyes.
"What seems to be the problem, Minerva?" Dumbledore asked calmly.
"He's been teaching the children to counterfeit money!" McGonagall said indignantly. "And to cheat at cards!"
Satoshi grinned sheepishly. "It was only an example," he protested in an innocent voice. "A simple class exercise; I didn't know that they would use those spells outside of class."
"Oh, don't play dumb, Satoshi," Karasu snorted. "It's an old tanuki trick, turning leaves into money. Of course the spell is only temporary, and the hapless shopkeeper is left with a pile of worthless trash, by which time the tanuki is long gone."
McGonagall glared at the tanuki, and Chizuru smiled a little. "The tanuki are tricksters and pranksters," she said. "It is their nature."
"I don't care; he's setting a bad example for the children!" McGonagall snapped. "That is unacceptable behavior for a teacher!"
Dumbledore affected a stern look, but there was a certain twinkle in his eyes as well. "I think it would be best if you do not show the students any more tricks that can be so easily abused. Is that clear, Master Satoshi?"
"Yes, sir," Satoshi replied meekly.
"Is that all?" McGonagall asked in a tone of outrage, and Snape smiled with a sense of malicious satisfaction. After all, he had asked the same question in the same outraged tone of voice whenever the Headmaster let off McGonagall's Gryffindors with a mere slap on the wrist.
"Well, I would advise the staff not to play cards with Master Satoshi," Dumbledore added in a mild voice. "Especially not for money." Snape was hard put to stifle his laugher as McGonagall spluttered indignantly. "As for the students involved, give them detention to discourage them from such misdeeds in the future."
"I most certainly will!" McGonagall declared in a tone that boded ill for those students, and swept out of the room in a huff. Chizuru smiled, Karasu sighed and shook his head, and Dumbledore winked at Satoshi, who winked back at him. Snape thought to himself that if the tanuki had been a student, he probably would have been sorted into Gryffindor, and resolved to keep a close eye on him from now on.
***
Snape was summoned to the Dark Lord's side one night, although Dylan was not, much to Snape's relief. He had actually been expecting a summons; he had recently completed another batch of the Mind Restoration Potion, and he knew that Voldemort would want a report on the new teachers at Hogwarts.
Snape's guess was correct. "Tell me about these new allies of Dumbledore's," Voldemort ordered him. "Gwydion tells me that they have had private meetings with the Minister of Magic and his top advisors, so I know that they are more than mere teachers. What is the old man's purpose in bringing them to Hogwarts?"
"Dumbledore has not confided his reasons to me," Snape replied, "but I think it is no coincidence that all three of these new 'teachers' are non-humans. I believe that he wishes to set an example, not just for the students, but for their parents and the Ministry, to show them that non-humans can live and work on an equal level with humans. The Japanese wizards do not discriminate against those with non-human blood, it seems. In fact, according to my new colleagues, most of the Japanese wizards believe that their powers are derived from non-human ancestors."
"Animal blood," Gwydion muttered distastefully.
Snape refrained from reminding him that he had once been an animal himself, during the three years he and his brother had spent in beast form as punishment for Goewin's rape; the Dark Lord probably wouldn't take kindly to his Death Eaters sniping at one another in the middle of a meeting. So all Snape said was, "They do not regard the shapeshifters and other non-humans as beasts, but rather as semi-divine beings. To them, possessing non-human blood is not a taint, but a badge of honor."
"So," Voldemort said speculatively, "Dumbledore is still trying to build alliances with the non-humans?"
"It appears so, my Lord," Snape replied. "Though he does not seem to have had much success. Hagrid's mission with the giants was a failure, as you know, and the centaurs refuse to ally themselves with humans, except for Firenze, who has been exiled from his people for proposing to do just that. And it seems that the other non-humans are loathe to help Dumbledore unless--"
"Unless the Ministry grants them equal rights under the law," Voldemort finished smugly. "Dumbledore can parade all the exotic foreign non-human allies he wishes before Cornelius Fudge and his Ministers; their pride will never let them agree to such a thing, at least, not until it is too late!" Snape nodded respectfully. "And how did Dumbledore persuade the Japanese wizards to ally with him?"
"It seems that he has convinced them that you will eventually become a threat to them if--" Voldemort frowned and Snape hastily changed his words to, "--I mean, when you win the war here."
Voldemort smiled maliciously. "We have enough to occupy our attention at home right now, but eventually, yes, we will expand our reach outwards. And someday I will punish Dumbledore's little friends for daring to oppose me." Snape forced himself to remain calm and show no sign of fear or dismay at the thought of Voldemort taking the war to Japan and perhaps harming the Kamiyama family, who had treated Lupin and himself so kindly. "So what are your new colleagues like, Severus?" Voldemort asked curiously, apparently sensing nothing out of the ordinary from Snape. "Do they pose a threat to us?"
"I don't think so, my Lord," Snape replied in a scornful voice. "The tanuki is a clever trickster, but not the sort to risk his hide in a battle. The crane woman is a healer, with no offensive magic; she would be useless in a war, save to tend to the wounded. The tengu is bold and brave enough, but he relies too much on physical strength. He might be able to take down a single mage if he caught him by surprise, but there is no way he could stand against a group of wizards."
"Good," the Dark Lord said with satisfaction. "But keep me apprised of the situation, and alert me if anything changes."
"Yes, my Lord."
"And how did your young charges fare with their 'special tutoring' over the holidays, Severus?"
"Very well, my Lord. I am quite pleased with their progress."
"You taught them Dark Warding and Blood Magic, I believe?"
"Yes, my Lord," Snape replied, being careful to show no surprise. No one other than Dumbledore, Lupin, and the children knew what spells he had been teaching them, so as Snape suspected, Lucius must have been secretly keeping in contact with Draco.
"The Blood Magic is useful, of course," Lucius said. "But as for the Dark Warding...I had thought you would be teaching them more combative spells, Severus."
"There will be time for that later, Lucius," Snape said calmly, "though of course I must be discreet. But I thought it wise to teach the children some protective magic; the more they prepare to assume their adult responsibilities as full-fledged Death Eaters, the more they will need to conceal, from their classmates, from the other teachers, and most of all, from Dumbledore. I thought it best to take the precaution of making sure that they can ward out eavesdroppers and spies. After all, Lucius, you wouldn't want anyone to stumble across--for example--whatever device Draco is using to communicate with you, would you?"
Voldemort laughed a little, sounding amused. "Clever Severus; your thinking is sound as always. Continue as you have been doing."
Snape bowed. "Thank you, my Lord. Yes, my Lord."
"And speaking of the children," Voldemort continued, "I hear Avery's girl has the Healing Gift?"
"Yes, my Lord, she does, although it came as something of a surprise to everyone in the school."
Andreas Avery scowled. "I don't want my daughter learning healing! Whoever heard of a Death Eater who was a healer? The very idea's ridiculous!"
"It could come in useful," Snape pointed out. "A trained healer could have healed Bellatrix without a Sanguis Sanatio spell." Bellatrix glared at him, and several of the other Death Eaters, the ones who had contributed their blood to the spell, shifted uneasily. "Besides, she cannot withdraw from the class without drawing undue attention to herself. Let her learn what she can from the crane woman, and put it to use on our behalf."
"I thought that little Serafina had a talent for hexing," Lucius said thoughtfully as Avery shot him a resentful look. "It seems rather odd that she would also turn out to have a talent for healing."
"I did some research," Snape said; he had also consulted with Chizuru, but he did not tell the Death Eaters that. "Miss Avery is particularly adept at casting hexes that deal with pain and wounding. I believe that she may have been using her Healing Gift in reverse--unconsciously, of course."
"What?!" exclaimed Lucius, and even the Dark Lord looked startled. "Can such a thing be done?"
"Theoretically," Snape said with a shrug. "Of course it runs counter to the mindset of most healers, who abide by the Hippocratic oath to 'do no harm.' But logically, if one knows how to heal, one should be able to reverse the process and inflict harm just as easily. More easily, in fact; it is always easier to destroy something rather than repair it. Of course, to use one's powers in such a way would be considered Dark Magic, and is punishable by death or a sentence in Azkaban, depending on the severity of the offense."
Voldemort looked intrigued. "Very interesting," he said in a musing tone. "Yes, Miss Avery must continue her lessons with the healer. And I wish for you to tutor her in this opposite method of healing."
Snape, of course, having no Healing Gift of his own, could not tutor Serafina in the way that Chizuru did, but one did not tell the Dark Lord that something was impossible if one wished to live. Besides, it should not be impossible; although Snape could not cast such healing or anti-healing spells himself, he had enough theoretical knowledge to at least be able to guide her along in her studies. "Yes, my Lord," was all he said.
"And by the way," Voldemort said casually, as if in afterthought, but Snape knew that almost everything the Dark Lord did was very carefully planned, "I heard you were quite friendly with our old friend Professor Blackmore at the Yule Ball."
{Dammit, I knew that would cause trouble,} Snape thought to himself sourly. Aloud, he said, "She asked me to dance, my Lord. I tried to refuse, but she was most insistent; I feared further refusal would draw more attention than giving in would."
"And just why was she so insistent upon dancing with you, Severus?" Voldemort asked skeptically. "Can it be that the infamous Branwen Blackmore is enamored of you?"
The Death Eaters laughed mockingly; Snape ignored them. "No, my Lord, not enamored, but the years seem to have made her softer than I ever thought possible. Her motivation was not precisely romance, but it was sentiment that moved her."
"Explain, Severus," Voldemort said with a frown.
"She harbors regret and guilt, my Lord," Snape replied. He did not like giving the Dark Lord such personal information about Branwen, but she had consented to it, and moreover, made it necessary by that impulsive dance at the Ball. Or perhaps it was more than impulse; he needed to pass along information that Voldemort would consider valuable in order to retain his position as the Dark Lord's "spy," and this, Branwen had told him almost smugly, would certainly qualify. Although he was an adult now and didn't really need her protection, she still seemed determined to mother and protect him, along with Lupin and Black. "She suspects that I am still a Death Eater, but she wants to believe that I have changed. She mourns the loss of the students she could not save, such as Rosier and Wilkes, and even the ones sent to kill her, Foley and Riggs. She believes, I think, that if she had said or done something differently, she could have prevented us from entering your service, my Lord."
The Dark Lord and his Death Eaters laughed loud and long. Snape joined in, of course, though he felt no mirth. "How disappointing," Voldemort said, "that Branwen Blackmore should, in the end, turn out to be merely a foolish, sentimental woman after all! She cannot possibly have demon blood; no demon would ever be so soft!"
That was not true, of course. Branwen was part demon, and existed only because her demon forefather had fallen in love with a human woman. Even apart from Branwen's ancestor Araqiel, there were tales and legends of demons falling in love with mortals, although such stories rarely ended happily for the mortals involved. But Snape knew better than to contradict the Dark Lord.
Meanwhile, Voldemort was still chuckling. "Very well, Severus. Continue to cultivate your old Professor, and try to convince her that you are a good little reformed Death Eater."
"Yes, my Lord," Snape said obediently, bowing his head.
Voldemort handed over the Mind Restoration Potion to the Donner brothers and dismissed his Death Eaters after that, but motioned for Snape to remain behind. "I would like you to prepare a batch of Strengthening Solution, as well as some Elixir of Vitality."
"Yes, my Lord," Snape said, without expressing any of the curiosity he felt.
"You may leave now, Severus," Voldemort said, and Snape Disapparated.
***
Alone in his private chambers, the Dark Lord relaxed and let down the glamor he had been projecting, and his form became even more pale and gaunt than usual. The body he had conjured up with Wormtail's help was not a true body, but a magical construct that had to be maintained, and his strength was draining at a more rapid pace than he had anticipated. The potions he had ordered Snape to make would help stave off his degeneration, but it was merely a stopgap measure. He had not yet sent his Death Eaters on a killing spree, because their numbers had fallen, and they were in a weaker position than they had been in the past, but soon they would have to gather sacrifices for him, in order for him to sustain his body and his strength. This was why his research on Dylan's roses was so important: he not only wanted to control them as a weapon without the Rosier boy's help, but he also wanted to harness the vampiric powers of the roses themselves. He wanted to find a way to feed off the blood and strength of others as easily as the roses did; blood sacrifice accomplished more or less the same thing, but it required a great deal of time and preparation and many complicated rituals to perform correctly. It would be so much easier if he could suck out a victim's life-force and transfer it to himself with a mere touch...
And he suspected that part of his weakness had something to do with the way he and the Potter boy were bound together by the prophecy and the rebounded Killing Curse. The boy had vanquished him once; he needed to return the favor in order to restore himself to full power. And Potter was the only one who could kill him...once the boy was dead, there would be no one to stop him from ruling the world, and whatever he needed--blood, power, even a new body, perhaps--would be his for the taking.
***
Snape reported on Voldemort's request at the next Order meeting.
"What does You-Know-Who want with those Potions?" Shacklebolt wondered aloud, a frown creasing his forehead.
"I don't know," Snape replied. "I'm not even sure whether he wants them for himself or for one or more of the Death Eaters."
"Helpful as always, Snape," Moody muttered sarcastically.
"What exactly do these potions do, Severus?" Tonks asked.
Snape heaved a rather dramatic sigh. "I see you have forgotten most of what I taught you in Potions class, Miss Tonks," he said, and the young witch flushed in embarrassment while Black glared at him. Snape smirked a little; it was so easy to bait a Gryffindor, like taking candy from a baby, really...but Lupin was also giving him a stern look, so Snape cleared his throat and continued. "Strengthening Solution, as the name implies, gives the imbiber added strength and stamina. It can be used to give one enough strength to perform some task that would otherwise be impossible--lifting an impossibly heavy object or running for miles without rest, for example. It can also be used to temporarily sustain someone who is weakened through illness or injury, but it's no substitute for a healing potion--in fact, it's dangerous to consume it too frequently or in too great a dosage. The potion imparts great strength to the imbiber, but the human body is not meant to sustain such strength. No harm is done with only a small dose and a very short period of heightened strength, but using it for too long can inflict permanent damage on the body. The Elixir of Vitality is a weakened but much safer version of the Strengthening Solution. It imparts a feeling of energy and good health, and contains herbs that help to strengthen the immune system, leaving one less susceptible to small illnesses such as colds or the flu."
"My Great-Aunt Martha swears by it," Dedalus Diggle said musingly. "Has a draught of it once every week. She's still hale and hearty, so I suppose it works."
"That's very nice for Aunt Martha," Sirius said impatiently, "but I'm more worried about what Voldemort wants it for. Could he be planning some mission for the Death Eaters requiring a great feat of strength?"
"Not that I know of," Snape replied, "though of course he does not tell me everything. And that does not explain the Elixir of Vitality. I wonder..." He frowned thoughtfully.
"Care to share your thoughts with us, Snape?" Shacklebolt asked irritably, when Snape did not continue.
Snape shot him a glare, just on principle, but he was too worried to really take offense. "The Dark Lord's current body was built out of blood and bone and Dark Magic. I am just wondering if he requires magic to maintain it."
There were startled exclamations from around the table. Branwen thought it over for a moment, then said, "It's possible. My father taught me that power always comes with a price, and the greater the power, the greater the price. This is especially true of Dark Magic."
"But he's had that body since the Tri-Wizard Tournament, nearly two years ago!" Sirius protested. "And he's never asked Snape for those potions before!"
"I could be wrong," Branwen said with a shrug. "Or perhaps the spell he used to create his body is beginning to deteriorate."
"It isn't permanent?" Tonks asked, looking shocked.
Branwen shrugged again. "No one has done such a thing within living memory; I'm not sure that anyone, even Voldemort, truly understands how such a spell really works. Dark Spells with a long-term effect usually require blood or magic--or both--at regular intervals to sustain them."
"If that's true," Sirius said excitedly, "if old Voldie's losing his strength, then that means he's vulnerable! We might have a chance to defeat him!"
"That also makes him very dangerous," Snape warned. "It could make him desperate. He's kept a low profile since his return, but if he needs to sustain the spell keeping him alive--or embodied, rather--he might start killing victims again in Blood Magic rituals. Or he might get desperate enough to try and strike out at Potter."
Sirius went pale, and Lupin reminded him in a quiet voice, "And Harry is the one who must defeat him. We can help fight the Death Eaters, but Harry is the one who must face down Voldemort, one-on-one, and I'm not sure he's ready for that yet."
"I'm certain that he's not," Snape declared firmly.
Molly Weasley's face was as pale as Sirius's, and she looked terrified; her husband looked grim and worried. They reached out without looking and tightly clasped each other's hands.
"Very well," Dumbledore said in a grave voice. "We must be on guard, and we at Hogwarts must watch over Harry very carefully. Severus, please inform us if you hear anything more from Voldemort or the Death Eaters."
"Of course, Headmaster."
The meeting disbanded, with a very gloomy air.
***
Hagrid led his fifth-year Gryffindor-Slytherin class into the Forbidden Forest one day, his students reluctantly following behind and wondering what he had in store for them today. Something nasty with a lot of of sharp teeth, they thought gloomily, because the Gamekeeper was carrying a side of beef on his shoulder.
"I thought it was forbidden for us to enter the forest," Damien grumbled. "Hence, the name 'Forbidden' Forest."
"I'm with yeh, so it's fine," Hagrid said cheerfully. "Yeh don' have ter worry about gettin' detention."
"Well, that's very reassuring," Damien muttered sarcastically, and despite the rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor, most of the Gryffindors looked like they agreed with him.
If Dylan had been paying closer attention, he might have guessed what was coming and been able to prepare himself better. But he was distracted by thoughts of the secret Dark Arts lessons from Snape (which had tapered off after school started, but he was still tutoring them, just less frequently), which in turn reminded him of the Dark Lord and the Mark on his arm. Snape had said that the Dark Lord wanted them to learn these spells, and he was worried that meant Voldemort intended to Mark the other Death Eater offspring soon. He didn't really care so much about Draco and Crabbe and Goyle, although he wouldn't wish that fate on anyone, but he was very worried about Theo, who often looked frightened and tense these days, and to a lesser extent about Serafina, who seemed like a decent sort despite her odd ways. It was clear that she didn't want to follow in her father's footsteps, so she couldn't be all that bad. And on a more mundane level, he was irritated because Valentine's Day was coming up soon, and he didn't dare send a gift to Hermione. Well, maybe he could send it through Lupin, but she shared a dorm room with Parvati and Lavender, so it was probably a risk he shouldn't take, because they might happen to see her open his gift and wonder who it was from. He had seen her wearing the charm bracelet he'd given her for Christmas (minus the rose charm; it was a long shot that anyone would connect it with him, but she was probably wise to leave it off), which cheered him up slightly, but Weasley had been gazing at her with a doe-eyed look ever since the Yule Ball, and Dylan had overheard him making plans to go to Hogsmeade with Hermione and Potter. It wasn't quite a date, but he suspected Weasley was trying to work up enough courage to finally make his move. It was absolutely ridiculous for Dylan, the most popular boy in the school (at least among the girls), to be jealous of homely, scruffy Weasley, but he was...
So, because he was preoccupied with his thoughts, the arrival of the Thestrals took him completely by surprise. Hagrid threw the side of beef to the ground and let out a loud, shrieking cry. A few moments later, a nearly skeletal black horse with leathery bat-like wings appeared, stared at the children with pupil-less white eyes, then bent down and tore into the meat with long, pointed fangs. Dylan gasped and took a step back; so did a Gryffindor girl named Melissa. The other students gave them a puzzled look, then they too gasped with fear and surprise when saw strips of meat being torn away from the side of beef and vanishing into thin air.
"Thestrals!" Ginny exclaimed.
"Very good, Ginny!" Hagrid said, beaming at her. "Five points ter Gryffindor."
"You can see them!" Damien exclaimed sharply, his eyes widening in surprise, and Dylan cursed himself for being so careless; he should have feigned ignorance. He had never been able to see the Thestrals before, but now he could, because he had seen Karkaroff die on Halloween night, slain by Dylan's own roses on the Dark Lord's orders.
"It figures that a Death Eater would be able to see the Thestrals," a Gryffindor boy said in a loud stage whisper. Dylan glared at the boy, but he was even more irked that Hagrid pretended not to hear the remark. Snape, Lupin, and Blackmore would have given detention or deducted points for such a remark, and McGonagall and Flitwick would at least have reprimanded the boy, but the Gamekeeper did nothing. He often caught Hagrid giving him suspicious sidelong glances, and he knew that Hagrid had been one of the staff members who had argued against admitting a known Death Eater's son to Hogwarts. In fact, Hagrid was giving him one of those sidelong glances right now. {Probably wondering who I've killed,} Dylan thought to himself darkly.
The Gryffindors were quietly asking Melissa who she had seen die, and she replied, "My great-grandmother, last summer. She was at St. Mungo's, she had been sick for a long time..." No one, not even any of the Slytherins, asked Dylan whose death he had seen; they were probably afraid of what the answer might be.
Later that night, alone in their dorm room, Damien asked hesitantly, "I didn't know you could see the Thestrals. Whose death did you see?"
"An old family friend," Dylan replied. It was not quite a lie; Karkaroff had been a comrade of Dylan's father, after all, although he didn't know if Evan Rosier had actually considered him a "friend." "He, um, had a terminal disease." Which was only half a lie; Karkaroff had not had a disease, but he had been marked for death when he tried to run from his Master and escape the Death Eaters. For all that it had taken over a year before he was actually killed, Karkaroff had been a walking dead man from the moment he fled the Triwizard Tournament.
"Oh," Damien said, looking as though he didn't quite believe Dylan's answer. But he dropped the subject and didn't bring it up again.
***
Hermione sat with Ginny in a secluded corner of the library; she wanted to get some advice from her friend, and she didn't want anyone else to overhear them. "I think Ron, well, likes me," she said in a halting voice, reluctant to voice the words aloud, as if that would make them true. Besides, it was a little awkward saying such things to Ron's sister, but she didn't have anyone else to confide in. "I mean, as more than a friend..."
Ginny smiled and rolled her eyes a little. "That's been obvious ever since your fourth year, when he got so jealous of Viktor Krum. You only just now realized?"
Hermione flushed, looking a little chagrined. "Well, I...we've been friends since first year...I never thought..." she stammered.
Ginny laughed, but in a kindly manner. "I guess it's harder to see when you're personally involved. Okay, so we know that Ron likes you. The question is, do you like him?"
"Of course I like him," Hermione said, looking a little distraught, "but as a friend! I never thought of him that way! I never even considered it a possibility..."
"Well, now that you know, is there any possibility that you could return his feelings?" Ginny asked. "Or..." She gave her friend a shrew look. "Perhaps there's someone else you like?" Hermione blushed. {Bingo,} Ginny thought.
Hermione bit her lip and began tugging nervously on her charm bracelet. "Well, sort of. But it's not...we can't...I mean, it wouldn't really work out, at least, not right now..."
When the other Gryffindor girls had admired her new bracelet, Hermione had told them that her mother had given it to her, but because Ginny had been with her when she opened the present at Sirius's house, she knew who it was really from. "Is it Dylan?" Ginny asked quietly. To her surprise, Hermione looked more frightened than embarrassed.
"You can't tell anyone that!" Hermione said in a hushed but frantic voice. "It could get Dylan in trouble!"
Ginny frowned. "I know Malfoy doesn't like to see the Slytherins associating with Gryffindors, but Pansy and Millicent seem to have become chummy with Parvati and Lavender, and Damien danced with Parvati at the ball--"
"This is different!" Hermione insisted, still whispering. "I can't talk about it--but it could be dangerous for him!"
"You can't tell me why?" Ginny asked, still frowning.
"I promised--someone--that I wouldn't tell anyone about it," Hermione said miserably.
"Okay," Ginny said, touching her hand briefly. "I trust you, and I know you have to keep your word."
"Thanks," Hermione said gratefully.
"A star-crossed romance sounds really romantic in books," Ginny continued, "but it doesn't seem like it would be very satisfying in real life. I won't try and push Ron on you just because he's my brother, but wouldn't it be more practical to go after a guy who's attainable?"
"You're so practical, Ginny," Hermione sighed.
Ginny grinned. "Funny, that's what people usually say about you!"
Hermione couldn't help but laugh. "And here I am mooning over some boy I can't have!" She touched the bracelet again. "I know Ron's a great guy, and he's one of my best friends, but...you can't make yourself fall in love with somebody just because they'd be good for you."
"I suppose you're right," Ginny said ruefully. "Though it sure would be a lot easier if we could pick and choose who we'd fall in love with! Poor Ron...try and let him down easy, okay?"
Hermione blushed again and changed the subject. "So, what about you and Harry?"
It was Ginny's turn to flush. "What do you mean?"
"Come on, you two got along so well at the Yule Ball..."
"Yeah, but he hasn't treated me any differently since then..."
"That's not really true," Hermione said. "He gets a little flustered and tongue-tied around you now."
"He's just embarrassed that I gave him that goodnight kiss," Ginny said, but she looked pleased. "Besides, I'm totally over him. I mean it was just a crush; I was infatuated with 'Famous Harry Potter,' not the real person. I didn't even really know him at the time..."
"But you know him now," Hermione pointed out. "As a real person, not the Boy Who Lived. And he knows you."
"I'm not going to waste my time chasing after some unattainable boy," Ginny said stubbornly.
"He's not so unattainable," Hermione said in a casual voice. "He's over Cho, you know. He told Michael Corner that he hoped they'd be happy together, and he seemed to mean it." She paused, then added thoughtfully, "I think he might be holding back because of Dean. They're friends, so I think he feels it would be disloyal to go after Dean's ex-girlfriend. You have to give him some time, Ginny. Boys can be so dense sometimes..."
Ginny sighed. "No kidding."
***
"Happy Valentine's Day, Severus!" Lupin sang out as he entered Snape's quarters through the fireplace, carrying a large heart-shaped box of candy.
"Happy Valentine's Day, Remus," Snape said, accepting the gift and giving him a kiss, then presented Lupin with a box of his own.
Lupin opened the box and exclaimed with pleasure, "Homemade chocolates?"
Snape grinned, looking a little sheepish. "Yes, I made them myself in my workshop."
Lupin grinned back, remembering the prank Severus, Evan, and Lyall had played on James back in third year. "These don't have any Swelling Solution in them, do they?"
Snape laughed and put his arms around Lupin, pulling him close. "No, I like your body just the way it is..."
As Lupin returned the embrace, he caught a glimpse over Snape's shoulder of a small box wrapped with a ribbon lying on Snape's desk. "What's this, Severus?" he asked in mock-suspicion. "Is someone else giving you Valentine's Day presents? You know how jealous we werewolves can get..."
"Oh, knock it off, Lupin," Snape said, stepping back with a scowl. "It's from Chizuru; you probably got one just like it. It's the custom in Japan, for women to give chocolates on Valentine's Day, not just to their sweethearts, but to their male colleagues. 'Girichoko'--'duty chocolates'. I'm sure she gave them to all the male teachers."
Lupin laughed. "Yes, I got one, too; I was just teasing you." He kissed the tip of Snape's beaky nose. "Hagrid was quite thrilled with his gift."
"Someone should have warned Chizuru that the big oaf might take it seriously," Snape said with a frown. "The way he's been drooling over her..."
"Karasu seems quite protective of her," Lupin said, unconcerned. "I'm sure he'll keep Hagrid from getting out of line." He growled playfully and bared his teeth at Snape. "Now, as I said before, werewolves tend to be jealous, and the wolf is feeling a bit neglected, what with all this talk about Chizuru..."
"You're the one who brought it up," Snape complained, then gasped as Lupin began nuzzling his throat. Lupin growled in his ear, and he completely lost his train of thought. "Uh...what were we talking about?"
"How jealous and possessive werewolves are," Lupin said in a low, husky growl, his breath tickling Snape's ear.
"Oh...right," Snape said, wrapping his arms around Lupin again. "Well, then, I suppose we'd better take care of the wolf's needs; we can't have a werewolf tearing around the school on a rampage, after all..."
"Sometimes, Severus," Lupin said affectionately, "you talk too much." He cut off Snape's words with a firm kiss, and there was no talking in the Potions Master's quarters (unless one counted wordless moans or cries of passion) for quite some time.
***
The three friends strolled through the streets of Hogsmeade, but the atmosphere was a bit tense. Ron was uncharacteristically quiet, and kept fidgeting nervously, putting his hands in his pockets, then taking them out, then putting them back in his pockets as if he didn't know what to do with them. Meanwhile, Hermione kept chattering in a falsely bright voice about nothing in particular. "It's a nice day, isn't it? So bright and sunny; a perfect day for a Hogsmeade outing. Oh, let's stop at Scrivenshaft's; I wanted to get a new quill. The black-and-gold one I bought from them last year was so nice--"
"Er, maybe later," Ron said, turning down the street heading towards Madam Puddifoot's tea shop, the customary location for trysting couples. "Why don't we, uh, stop at Puddifoot's for a, um, coffee or something?"
"You don't drink coffee," Hermione pointed out.
"For a cup of tea, then!" Ron snapped. Then blushing, he added in a milder voice, "Just for a bit. I'm, um, really thirsty."
Ron glanced at Harry, who quickly said, "Oh, I forgot I was supposed to...to...um, drop off something at the post office!"
Hermione gazed at him suspiciously. "Why don't you use Hedwig?"
"It's not my letter," Harry said, thinking frantically. "It, uh, belongs to a second-year who doesn't have his own owl. He, ah, asked me to drop it off for him. Look, why don't you two go on ahead and I'll catch up with you later, okay?"
Hermione heaved a sigh of resignation and entered the tea shop with Ron. Harry wandered off, thinking that maybe he'd stop at Zonko's or Honeydukes to kill some time. He was a little worried; he didn't think Ron's "date" was off to a good start, judging by Hermione's reluctance, and he wondered what this would do to the friendship the three of them shared. As he paused outside of Zonko's, he heard someone say, "Hi, Harry."
He looked up and said, "Oh, hi, Ginny."
"Where're Ron and Hermione?"
Harry gestured vaguely in the direction of the tea shop. "At Madam Puddifoot's."
"Poor Ron," Ginny sighed. "I hope she lets him down easy."
"You knew?" Harry asked, startled.
Ginny rolled her eyes. "It was only so obvious. But she doesn't feel the same way about him."
"Oh," Harry said, feeling completely out of the loop. He hadn't even been aware that Ron liked Hermione as more than a friend till the Yule Ball, but then again, he didn't think that Ron had been aware of that himself--consciously, anyway--for much longer than that. Besides, between his regular schoolwork, his Occlumency lessons, and worrying what Voldemort and the Death Eaters were up to, Harry had little time to ponder his friends' love lives.
"Maybe we should go check up on them," Ginny suggested.
"Uh, I'm not sure that's such a good idea," Harry said, but Ginny was already heading towards the tea shop, so Harry shrugged and followed her. They looked through the window, and saw the pair sitting at a nearby table. Hermione was speaking, with an earnest and worried expression on her face, and Ron looked crestfallen. Harry was feeling very sorry for his friend, when he saw Ginny's eyes widen in surprise and move towards another table across the room. He looked over and saw Dean Thomas sitting at a table with Susan Bones from Hufflepuff; they were smiling and leaning across the table to talk to each other, their faces almost, but not quite, touching. He looked anxiously at Ginny, but she looked more relieved than offended.
"Good!" she said. "He's finally moved on."
This made Harry feel surprisingly lighthearted, but he didn't have much time to dwell on it. Ron's expression changed from crestfallen to angry. "I suppose you're hung up on Dylan Rosier, like all the other girls!" he shouted, loud enough for Harry and Ginny to hear. The other couples in the shop looked up at them.
"Don't be silly, Ron!" Hermione retorted, beginning to look angry herself.
"It's not like he'd ever look at a Gryffindor girl!" Ron continued, as if he hadn't heard.
"I'm not going to sit here and be shouted at!" Hermione said, rising from her seat. "I'll listen to you when you're ready to be reasonable and stop talking nonsense."
"Nonsense?!" Ron spluttered, but Hermione was already stalking out of the shop. Ginny went off with her to try and comfort her. Harry tried to console Ron, without much success.
"Women," Ron said in a disgusted voice. "Why's she so hung up on a guy who doesn't want to be seen in public with her?"
"I don't think that she and Dylan--" Harry started to say.
"Whose side are you on, anyway?!" Ron asked indignantly. After that, Harry just listened without saying anything more, nodding sympathetically at suitable intervals.
***
When the Slytherins returned from Hogsmeade, the girls were giggling and Draco was smirking smugly.
"What's so funny?" Dylan asked, looking up from the card game he was playing with Theo and Blaise in the common room.
"You're so popular, Dylan," Pansy said in a singsong voice.
"Weasley and Granger were having a fight over you!" Damien said with a grin.
"Ginny and Hermione?" Dylan asked in shock.
"No, you dolt!" Draco said, still smirking. "RON Weasley!"
"He was pouring out his heart to her in Madam Puddifoot's--" Millicent said.
"Where you and Miles were getting a little cozy yourselves," Pansy said coyly.
Millicent blushed. "Never mind that now; we were talking about Weasley and Granger. So he's confessing his feelings for her, but she tells him that she only thinks of him as a friend."
"Ouch!" Damien said, wincing. "I hate the old 'lets just be friends' speech."
"Don't interrupt," Millicent scolded. "Then he starts shouting at her about how she's hung up on Dylan like all the other girls."
"ME?!" Dylan exclaimed. "Er...what did she say?"
"Oh, that he was being silly and talking nonsense, and then she walked out on him."
"I love it," Draco crowed. "Potter's two faithful sidekicks, fighting over one of us! Never thought Granger cared about anything but her homework, but I guess even she can't resist your charm, Rosier!"
"She's too much of a bookworm for my taste," Dylan said scornfully, and Draco and the girls laughed. His heart was pounding with fear, but he was careful to keep his face calm, and no one seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary.
"Eh, I don't blame her for not liking Weasley, though," Damien said, making a face.
"Well, of course," Pansy said, as if pointing out the obvious. "How could any girl, even a Gryffindor, prefer Weasley over Dylan?!"
To Dylan's relief, it never crossed anyone's mind that he might actually return Hermione's feelings, and Draco, far from being annoyed, was actually pleased at the turmoil Dylan was causing--however unintentionally--in Gryffindor House.
***
After a few weeks of Ron and Hermione not speaking to each other, Harry was at the end of his rope. He didn't know what to do, but Ginny had a very practical solution. One nice, sunny Saturday morning when everyone else was out of the dorm, Ginny brought Hermione to Ron and Harry's room.
As the two feuding friends glared at each other, Ginny said in a stern, no-nonsense voice, "This has gone on long enough! Your friendship is too valuable for you to throw it away over a petty quarrel!
"But he--" Hermione said indignantly.
"But she--" Ron protested.
"I don't care whose fault it is," Ginny interrupted. "You two are staying here until you work things out!" Then she dragged Harry out of the room--he flashed his friends a helpless, sympathetic look--and slammed the door behind her, sealing it with a ward that could only be removed from the outside of the room.
"The door's locked!" Ron said, jiggling the doorknob.
"I think she's warded it," Hermione said, sounding both annoyed and curious at the same time.
"Can't you dispel it?!"
Hermione tried, without success. "I think you have to be on the side of door on which the spell was cast. It's probably the same spell Professor Lupin taught us in class."
The two friends stared at each other. "Well..." Ron said reluctantly.
"Well..." echoed Hermione.
"Look, I'm sorry," they both started to say at once, then stopped and laughed a little despite themselves. "You first," said Ron.
"I'm sorry I hurt your feelings, Ron," Hermione said. "You're my best friend, and I really, really like you, but--"
"But not that way," Ron finished in a resigned tone. "I know; I'm sorry I yelled at you."
"It's not because you yelled at me that I was so mad," Hermione explained. "But that you said in front of all those people that I like Dylan. I told you before, Dylan would get in trouble if people found out he has a Gryffindor friend!"
"He's Snape's pet," Ron said sullenly. "Snape's not going to let him get expelled just because Malfoy gets into a snit."
"I'm not talking about that!" Hermione snapped.
Ron stared at her in confusion. "Then what are you talking about?"
Hermione bit her lip; Snape had made her promise not to tell anyone what he had told her about Dylan being in danger, but she had to make Ron understand. "Look at it logically," she said cautiously. "Dylan is a Death Eater's son. The Death Eaters are on the loose now."
"So?" Ron said, uncomprehendingly. "He should be jumping for joy."
If the door hadn't been locked with a warding spell, Hermione might have stomped out, but it was, so she took a deep breath, silently counted to ten, and tried again. "Suppose, just for one minute, that Dylan doesn't want to be a Death Eater like his father. Just for the sake of argument."
"Okay," Ron said reluctantly. "Just for the sake of argument."
"How do you think his father's old friends would feel about him getting cozy with the enemy?"
Ron's eyes widened in shock and--finally!--comprehension. "They...they wouldn't like it. Maybe they'd even..." He turned a little pale and swallowed hard. "But that's assuming he doesn't want to follow in his father's footsteps."
"People aren't always what they seem, Ron," Hermione said impatiently. "Snape isn't."
"Yeah, well, I'm still not convinced about him, either," Ron mumbled. Hermione glared at him, and he hastened to add, "But I won't talk about you and Rosier in public anymore, okay? I promise."
"Thanks," Hermione said. "There's nothing to talk about, anyway. There's nothing going on between us. Even if we wanted to...be more than friends...we couldn't. Because of the danger."
She looked so sad that Ron found himself saying, "I'm sorry," much to his surprise. But he was glad he did, because she smiled at him warmly.
"Friends?" Hermione asked, holding out her hand.
"Friends," Ron said, and shook it.
Ginny, her ear pressed against the door, grinned and gave Harry a thumbs-up, then released the warding spell.
Part 31
Karasu held his class in a large, empty room with no desks, only wooden practice weapons hanging in racks on the wall and padded mats lining the floor. Draco grumbled under his breath that it was a waste of time for wizards to be learning physical combat. The crow-man, it seemed, had very keen hearing, because he overheard that remark.
"So, young Mr. Malfoy," Karasu said, "you feel you have no need for my lessons?"
Draco hesitated, torn between the desire to voice his scorn, and Snape's orders to play the role of the obedient schoolboy. He tried for some middle ground: "Meaning no disrespect, sir, but I don't understand how any warrior, however skilled, could stand against a trained mage. What good is a sword or a staff, when the mage can disarm, stun, or even kill the warrior with a flick of his wand?"
Karasu stared at him for a moment, his brown eyes unreadable, then he smiled, but it was not a gentle or reassuring smile like Chizuru's; even when he was being pleasant, the tengu warrior looked fierce and dangerous.
"Very well, Mr. Malfoy," Karasu said, "let us make a wager. I will attack you using no magic, armed only with my staff; you may use your wand and whatever spells you please against me. If you can defeat me, I will excuse you from these lessons. However, if I defeat you, then you will take the lessons and follow my instructions without complaint."
Theodore eyed their new teacher warily. Draco was smiling confidently, but Theo knew that the tengu would not have offered such a bargain if he didn't think he could win. "Um, Draco, maybe this isn't such a good idea--"
"Done!" Draco said to Karasu, ignoring Theodore. He took out his wand, and Karasu took a long wooden staff down from the wall. He bowed to Draco; Draco bowed back.
"On the count of three, then," Karasu said. "One...two...three!"
Draco lifted his wand and shouted, "Expelli--"
Moving with lightning speed, Karasu lunged across the room, striking out with his staff. Draco cried out in pain as it cracked hard across his knuckles, and he dropped his wand. He felt the tip of the staff touch his throat and he froze in place.
"If this were a spear, Mr. Malfoy," Karasu said, with no hint of smugness or gloating in his voice, "you would be dead now. Actually, even with a blunt wooden staff such as this, I could have killed you if I wished to. So you see, magic is indeed a powerful weapon, but it is not an invincible one. That is your first lesson: never underestimate your opponent."
Draco rubbed his sore hand sulkily, and Ron Weasley snickered. "You find that amusing, Red-Hair?" Karasu asked in a cold voice, and Weasley blanched and gulped. "You have just volunteered to help me demonstrate my next lesson to the class." He set aside his staff, and explained to Weasley and the class that he was going to start them off with basic lessons in unarmed combat before teaching them to use weapons. "And the first thing you need to know is not how to attack, but how to defend yourself." He demonstrated some simple evasive and blocking maneuvers--at least, they looked simple when he performed them. Weasley and the rest of the class soon found out what the mats were for--to soften the blow of being thrown to the ground. Draco's hurt pride was somewhat salved by the sight of Weasley being knocked on his arse, not once, but several times.
Draco and the other students soon found out that Karasu's lessons resulted in a lot of aches and bruises; the salves and poultices they made in Chizuru's class came in quite handy. Not all the tengu's lessons were violent, however. On some days, they played board games like Shogi (a sort of Japanese version of chess) to teach them strategy. "You must learn to predict what move your opponent will make," Karasu told them. "If you can determine far enough in advance what the enemy will do, the battle will be won before it is even started."
Draco reluctantly agreed that made sense, and he turned out to be quite good at the strategy games, winning a curt but approving, "Well done, Mr. Malfoy," from his teacher one day, and he could not help but feel a little surge of pride; Karasu tended to be taciturn, and blunt when he did speak, and handed out praise almost as sparingly as Snape did.
"It figures that a Slytherin would be good at being sneaky," Weasley muttered. Draco had won this current match over Weasley by subtlety and deception; he had feigned a frontal attack and sacrificed several pieces while quietly maneuvering another piece into position to capture Weasley's king. The Gryffindor boy hadn't even seen it coming. Of course, it didn't take a great deal of brains to defeat someone like Weasley, but Draco had not held back (remembering Karasu's admonition never to underestimate your opponent) and had played to the very best of his ability. Karasu seemed to be mildly impressed by his strategy, at least, even though it was probably wasted on Weasley.
"It figures that a Gryffindor can't appreciate a little subtlety," Draco retorted, but he was in such a good mood that his voice had little sting to it. In fact, he almost pitied the Gryffindors; they were always so straightforward, wearing their hearts on their sleeves ("Like fools," his father would say if he were here), that most of them could not appreciate or master the finer arts of guile and trickery. He detested being forced to work with them (Potter and Weasley were still his partners in Blackmore's class), but he was gradually growing accustomed to their presence, as annoying as it was. At times, the insults tossed back and forth between them almost became perfunctory.
"Mr. Weasley," Karasu said in an almost amused voice, "it is much less dangerous, not to mention much less painful, to defeat your enemy with your wits rather than hand-to-hand or sword-to-sword on the battlefield. And Mr. Malfoy, it is wise to never let success make you complacent."
"Yes, sir," the boys chorused. Each settled for giving the other a brief glare, then shrugged off the other's insult and started a new game. Subtlety and deception were required traits for a Death Eater, Draco mused to himself; perhaps Karasu's lessons would serve him well when he was finally allowed to take his rightful place among the Dark Lord's followers. Snape was right; Draco resolved to learn what he could from his new teachers, and someday the Headmaster might regret bringing them here when Draco and his friends joined the Death Eaters and used that knowledge against the old man and his allies...
***
Satoshi, unlike his two comrades, did not wear traditional Japanese dress, but rather wore robes similar to those of the other Hogwarts teachers; he even feigned an exaggerated British accent, much to his students' amusement, although it tended to slip when he forgot to concentrate. "We have survived all these years by being able to blend in among the humans," he told his students. "All that practice, I suppose, has made us talented Illusionists." He told them that his type of magic was similar to Transfiguration, but that only the appearance, and not the actual substance of the object, was changed. "For example," he said, "I could turn myself into a tea kettle." And in the blink of an eye, a fat, round black iron tea kettle sat on the floor in place of their teacher. He transformed back and added, "But if you placed me upon the fire, it would burn the fur off my poor tail." He sprouted a tail from his otherwise human form, and feigned beating out imaginary flames on it with a frantic air as the children laughed.
"Of course," Satoshi continued, "small, subtle changes are easier to make than large, dramatic ones. It is easier, for example, to change the color of Miss Patil's hair than to change her into a tea kettle." He lightly tapped his wand on Parvati's head and her dark hair suddenly changed to golden-blonde.
The class burst into laughter again and Parvati indignantly shouted, "Change it back!"
"Your hair is still black, Parvati," Satoshi replied calmly. "I have only put a kind of glamor upon it; if you look closely, you can see through the spell."
Parvati frowned at her blonde braid, and the other students stared at it closely as well. Her hair seemed to shimmer, and they rubbed at their eyes; suddenly they could see through the illusion, as if it were transparent, to the real color of Parvati's hair that lay beneath it.
"Do you think you can break the spell?" Satoshi asked.
Parvati took out her wand, tapped her braid with it, and said, "Finite Incantatum!" The illusion vanished and her hair returned to normal.
"Very good, Parvati!" Satoshi said cheerfully, clapping his hands together. "It is traditional to hand out points for a job well done, is it not? Five points to Gryffindor. As you can see, an illusion is easy to break if one is expecting to see it. Also, a wizard can see through an illusion more easily than a--ah, what do you call them? Than a Muggle. In order to create a convincing illusion, you must build it carefully, paying attention to detail. Beginners often make careless mistakes that render the illusion worthless. For example, tanuki cubs, when first learning to shapeshift, often forget little details--like their tails, for instance." He transformed himself into a tea kettle again, but this time there was a fuzzy striped tail growing out of it. The students laughed, and Satoshi became human again. "You see, no one would ever believe that was a real tea kettle!"
He set them to work changing--or more accurately, giving small objects the semblance of things approximately the same size and shape. Changing a twig into a pencil, for example, or a bottlecap into a coin. He also taught them not to transform an object completely, but to merely alter part of its appearance, such as changing the color of their hair, as he had done to Parvati, or changing the pictures on a deck of cards...
Which eventually led to trouble. Although Satoshi was very popular with the students, he was soon in hot water with the teachers, or at least with McGonagall.
"Headmaster!" McGonagall shouted, bursting into Dumbledore's office, dragging Satoshi along behind her like an errant student. Chizuru and Karasu trailed along after them. Dumbledore and Snape looked up with a start. "I'm sorry, Albus, Severus, I didn't mean to interrupt, but this is important!"
"My business can wait," Snape said in a surprisingly reasonable tone of voice, not out of any charitable feelings towards McGonagall, but rather out of curiosity. He eyed the tanuki, wondering what mischief the trickster had gotten himself into. Satoshi hung his head down, looking shamefaced and properly cowed, but Snape, with his fifteen years of experience teaching annoying Gryffindor brats, could see a mischievous little twinkle in the tanuki's eyes.
"What seems to be the problem, Minerva?" Dumbledore asked calmly.
"He's been teaching the children to counterfeit money!" McGonagall said indignantly. "And to cheat at cards!"
Satoshi grinned sheepishly. "It was only an example," he protested in an innocent voice. "A simple class exercise; I didn't know that they would use those spells outside of class."
"Oh, don't play dumb, Satoshi," Karasu snorted. "It's an old tanuki trick, turning leaves into money. Of course the spell is only temporary, and the hapless shopkeeper is left with a pile of worthless trash, by which time the tanuki is long gone."
McGonagall glared at the tanuki, and Chizuru smiled a little. "The tanuki are tricksters and pranksters," she said. "It is their nature."
"I don't care; he's setting a bad example for the children!" McGonagall snapped. "That is unacceptable behavior for a teacher!"
Dumbledore affected a stern look, but there was a certain twinkle in his eyes as well. "I think it would be best if you do not show the students any more tricks that can be so easily abused. Is that clear, Master Satoshi?"
"Yes, sir," Satoshi replied meekly.
"Is that all?" McGonagall asked in a tone of outrage, and Snape smiled with a sense of malicious satisfaction. After all, he had asked the same question in the same outraged tone of voice whenever the Headmaster let off McGonagall's Gryffindors with a mere slap on the wrist.
"Well, I would advise the staff not to play cards with Master Satoshi," Dumbledore added in a mild voice. "Especially not for money." Snape was hard put to stifle his laugher as McGonagall spluttered indignantly. "As for the students involved, give them detention to discourage them from such misdeeds in the future."
"I most certainly will!" McGonagall declared in a tone that boded ill for those students, and swept out of the room in a huff. Chizuru smiled, Karasu sighed and shook his head, and Dumbledore winked at Satoshi, who winked back at him. Snape thought to himself that if the tanuki had been a student, he probably would have been sorted into Gryffindor, and resolved to keep a close eye on him from now on.
***
Snape was summoned to the Dark Lord's side one night, although Dylan was not, much to Snape's relief. He had actually been expecting a summons; he had recently completed another batch of the Mind Restoration Potion, and he knew that Voldemort would want a report on the new teachers at Hogwarts.
Snape's guess was correct. "Tell me about these new allies of Dumbledore's," Voldemort ordered him. "Gwydion tells me that they have had private meetings with the Minister of Magic and his top advisors, so I know that they are more than mere teachers. What is the old man's purpose in bringing them to Hogwarts?"
"Dumbledore has not confided his reasons to me," Snape replied, "but I think it is no coincidence that all three of these new 'teachers' are non-humans. I believe that he wishes to set an example, not just for the students, but for their parents and the Ministry, to show them that non-humans can live and work on an equal level with humans. The Japanese wizards do not discriminate against those with non-human blood, it seems. In fact, according to my new colleagues, most of the Japanese wizards believe that their powers are derived from non-human ancestors."
"Animal blood," Gwydion muttered distastefully.
Snape refrained from reminding him that he had once been an animal himself, during the three years he and his brother had spent in beast form as punishment for Goewin's rape; the Dark Lord probably wouldn't take kindly to his Death Eaters sniping at one another in the middle of a meeting. So all Snape said was, "They do not regard the shapeshifters and other non-humans as beasts, but rather as semi-divine beings. To them, possessing non-human blood is not a taint, but a badge of honor."
"So," Voldemort said speculatively, "Dumbledore is still trying to build alliances with the non-humans?"
"It appears so, my Lord," Snape replied. "Though he does not seem to have had much success. Hagrid's mission with the giants was a failure, as you know, and the centaurs refuse to ally themselves with humans, except for Firenze, who has been exiled from his people for proposing to do just that. And it seems that the other non-humans are loathe to help Dumbledore unless--"
"Unless the Ministry grants them equal rights under the law," Voldemort finished smugly. "Dumbledore can parade all the exotic foreign non-human allies he wishes before Cornelius Fudge and his Ministers; their pride will never let them agree to such a thing, at least, not until it is too late!" Snape nodded respectfully. "And how did Dumbledore persuade the Japanese wizards to ally with him?"
"It seems that he has convinced them that you will eventually become a threat to them if--" Voldemort frowned and Snape hastily changed his words to, "--I mean, when you win the war here."
Voldemort smiled maliciously. "We have enough to occupy our attention at home right now, but eventually, yes, we will expand our reach outwards. And someday I will punish Dumbledore's little friends for daring to oppose me." Snape forced himself to remain calm and show no sign of fear or dismay at the thought of Voldemort taking the war to Japan and perhaps harming the Kamiyama family, who had treated Lupin and himself so kindly. "So what are your new colleagues like, Severus?" Voldemort asked curiously, apparently sensing nothing out of the ordinary from Snape. "Do they pose a threat to us?"
"I don't think so, my Lord," Snape replied in a scornful voice. "The tanuki is a clever trickster, but not the sort to risk his hide in a battle. The crane woman is a healer, with no offensive magic; she would be useless in a war, save to tend to the wounded. The tengu is bold and brave enough, but he relies too much on physical strength. He might be able to take down a single mage if he caught him by surprise, but there is no way he could stand against a group of wizards."
"Good," the Dark Lord said with satisfaction. "But keep me apprised of the situation, and alert me if anything changes."
"Yes, my Lord."
"And how did your young charges fare with their 'special tutoring' over the holidays, Severus?"
"Very well, my Lord. I am quite pleased with their progress."
"You taught them Dark Warding and Blood Magic, I believe?"
"Yes, my Lord," Snape replied, being careful to show no surprise. No one other than Dumbledore, Lupin, and the children knew what spells he had been teaching them, so as Snape suspected, Lucius must have been secretly keeping in contact with Draco.
"The Blood Magic is useful, of course," Lucius said. "But as for the Dark Warding...I had thought you would be teaching them more combative spells, Severus."
"There will be time for that later, Lucius," Snape said calmly, "though of course I must be discreet. But I thought it wise to teach the children some protective magic; the more they prepare to assume their adult responsibilities as full-fledged Death Eaters, the more they will need to conceal, from their classmates, from the other teachers, and most of all, from Dumbledore. I thought it best to take the precaution of making sure that they can ward out eavesdroppers and spies. After all, Lucius, you wouldn't want anyone to stumble across--for example--whatever device Draco is using to communicate with you, would you?"
Voldemort laughed a little, sounding amused. "Clever Severus; your thinking is sound as always. Continue as you have been doing."
Snape bowed. "Thank you, my Lord. Yes, my Lord."
"And speaking of the children," Voldemort continued, "I hear Avery's girl has the Healing Gift?"
"Yes, my Lord, she does, although it came as something of a surprise to everyone in the school."
Andreas Avery scowled. "I don't want my daughter learning healing! Whoever heard of a Death Eater who was a healer? The very idea's ridiculous!"
"It could come in useful," Snape pointed out. "A trained healer could have healed Bellatrix without a Sanguis Sanatio spell." Bellatrix glared at him, and several of the other Death Eaters, the ones who had contributed their blood to the spell, shifted uneasily. "Besides, she cannot withdraw from the class without drawing undue attention to herself. Let her learn what she can from the crane woman, and put it to use on our behalf."
"I thought that little Serafina had a talent for hexing," Lucius said thoughtfully as Avery shot him a resentful look. "It seems rather odd that she would also turn out to have a talent for healing."
"I did some research," Snape said; he had also consulted with Chizuru, but he did not tell the Death Eaters that. "Miss Avery is particularly adept at casting hexes that deal with pain and wounding. I believe that she may have been using her Healing Gift in reverse--unconsciously, of course."
"What?!" exclaimed Lucius, and even the Dark Lord looked startled. "Can such a thing be done?"
"Theoretically," Snape said with a shrug. "Of course it runs counter to the mindset of most healers, who abide by the Hippocratic oath to 'do no harm.' But logically, if one knows how to heal, one should be able to reverse the process and inflict harm just as easily. More easily, in fact; it is always easier to destroy something rather than repair it. Of course, to use one's powers in such a way would be considered Dark Magic, and is punishable by death or a sentence in Azkaban, depending on the severity of the offense."
Voldemort looked intrigued. "Very interesting," he said in a musing tone. "Yes, Miss Avery must continue her lessons with the healer. And I wish for you to tutor her in this opposite method of healing."
Snape, of course, having no Healing Gift of his own, could not tutor Serafina in the way that Chizuru did, but one did not tell the Dark Lord that something was impossible if one wished to live. Besides, it should not be impossible; although Snape could not cast such healing or anti-healing spells himself, he had enough theoretical knowledge to at least be able to guide her along in her studies. "Yes, my Lord," was all he said.
"And by the way," Voldemort said casually, as if in afterthought, but Snape knew that almost everything the Dark Lord did was very carefully planned, "I heard you were quite friendly with our old friend Professor Blackmore at the Yule Ball."
{Dammit, I knew that would cause trouble,} Snape thought to himself sourly. Aloud, he said, "She asked me to dance, my Lord. I tried to refuse, but she was most insistent; I feared further refusal would draw more attention than giving in would."
"And just why was she so insistent upon dancing with you, Severus?" Voldemort asked skeptically. "Can it be that the infamous Branwen Blackmore is enamored of you?"
The Death Eaters laughed mockingly; Snape ignored them. "No, my Lord, not enamored, but the years seem to have made her softer than I ever thought possible. Her motivation was not precisely romance, but it was sentiment that moved her."
"Explain, Severus," Voldemort said with a frown.
"She harbors regret and guilt, my Lord," Snape replied. He did not like giving the Dark Lord such personal information about Branwen, but she had consented to it, and moreover, made it necessary by that impulsive dance at the Ball. Or perhaps it was more than impulse; he needed to pass along information that Voldemort would consider valuable in order to retain his position as the Dark Lord's "spy," and this, Branwen had told him almost smugly, would certainly qualify. Although he was an adult now and didn't really need her protection, she still seemed determined to mother and protect him, along with Lupin and Black. "She suspects that I am still a Death Eater, but she wants to believe that I have changed. She mourns the loss of the students she could not save, such as Rosier and Wilkes, and even the ones sent to kill her, Foley and Riggs. She believes, I think, that if she had said or done something differently, she could have prevented us from entering your service, my Lord."
The Dark Lord and his Death Eaters laughed loud and long. Snape joined in, of course, though he felt no mirth. "How disappointing," Voldemort said, "that Branwen Blackmore should, in the end, turn out to be merely a foolish, sentimental woman after all! She cannot possibly have demon blood; no demon would ever be so soft!"
That was not true, of course. Branwen was part demon, and existed only because her demon forefather had fallen in love with a human woman. Even apart from Branwen's ancestor Araqiel, there were tales and legends of demons falling in love with mortals, although such stories rarely ended happily for the mortals involved. But Snape knew better than to contradict the Dark Lord.
Meanwhile, Voldemort was still chuckling. "Very well, Severus. Continue to cultivate your old Professor, and try to convince her that you are a good little reformed Death Eater."
"Yes, my Lord," Snape said obediently, bowing his head.
Voldemort handed over the Mind Restoration Potion to the Donner brothers and dismissed his Death Eaters after that, but motioned for Snape to remain behind. "I would like you to prepare a batch of Strengthening Solution, as well as some Elixir of Vitality."
"Yes, my Lord," Snape said, without expressing any of the curiosity he felt.
"You may leave now, Severus," Voldemort said, and Snape Disapparated.
***
Alone in his private chambers, the Dark Lord relaxed and let down the glamor he had been projecting, and his form became even more pale and gaunt than usual. The body he had conjured up with Wormtail's help was not a true body, but a magical construct that had to be maintained, and his strength was draining at a more rapid pace than he had anticipated. The potions he had ordered Snape to make would help stave off his degeneration, but it was merely a stopgap measure. He had not yet sent his Death Eaters on a killing spree, because their numbers had fallen, and they were in a weaker position than they had been in the past, but soon they would have to gather sacrifices for him, in order for him to sustain his body and his strength. This was why his research on Dylan's roses was so important: he not only wanted to control them as a weapon without the Rosier boy's help, but he also wanted to harness the vampiric powers of the roses themselves. He wanted to find a way to feed off the blood and strength of others as easily as the roses did; blood sacrifice accomplished more or less the same thing, but it required a great deal of time and preparation and many complicated rituals to perform correctly. It would be so much easier if he could suck out a victim's life-force and transfer it to himself with a mere touch...
And he suspected that part of his weakness had something to do with the way he and the Potter boy were bound together by the prophecy and the rebounded Killing Curse. The boy had vanquished him once; he needed to return the favor in order to restore himself to full power. And Potter was the only one who could kill him...once the boy was dead, there would be no one to stop him from ruling the world, and whatever he needed--blood, power, even a new body, perhaps--would be his for the taking.
***
Snape reported on Voldemort's request at the next Order meeting.
"What does You-Know-Who want with those Potions?" Shacklebolt wondered aloud, a frown creasing his forehead.
"I don't know," Snape replied. "I'm not even sure whether he wants them for himself or for one or more of the Death Eaters."
"Helpful as always, Snape," Moody muttered sarcastically.
"What exactly do these potions do, Severus?" Tonks asked.
Snape heaved a rather dramatic sigh. "I see you have forgotten most of what I taught you in Potions class, Miss Tonks," he said, and the young witch flushed in embarrassment while Black glared at him. Snape smirked a little; it was so easy to bait a Gryffindor, like taking candy from a baby, really...but Lupin was also giving him a stern look, so Snape cleared his throat and continued. "Strengthening Solution, as the name implies, gives the imbiber added strength and stamina. It can be used to give one enough strength to perform some task that would otherwise be impossible--lifting an impossibly heavy object or running for miles without rest, for example. It can also be used to temporarily sustain someone who is weakened through illness or injury, but it's no substitute for a healing potion--in fact, it's dangerous to consume it too frequently or in too great a dosage. The potion imparts great strength to the imbiber, but the human body is not meant to sustain such strength. No harm is done with only a small dose and a very short period of heightened strength, but using it for too long can inflict permanent damage on the body. The Elixir of Vitality is a weakened but much safer version of the Strengthening Solution. It imparts a feeling of energy and good health, and contains herbs that help to strengthen the immune system, leaving one less susceptible to small illnesses such as colds or the flu."
"My Great-Aunt Martha swears by it," Dedalus Diggle said musingly. "Has a draught of it once every week. She's still hale and hearty, so I suppose it works."
"That's very nice for Aunt Martha," Sirius said impatiently, "but I'm more worried about what Voldemort wants it for. Could he be planning some mission for the Death Eaters requiring a great feat of strength?"
"Not that I know of," Snape replied, "though of course he does not tell me everything. And that does not explain the Elixir of Vitality. I wonder..." He frowned thoughtfully.
"Care to share your thoughts with us, Snape?" Shacklebolt asked irritably, when Snape did not continue.
Snape shot him a glare, just on principle, but he was too worried to really take offense. "The Dark Lord's current body was built out of blood and bone and Dark Magic. I am just wondering if he requires magic to maintain it."
There were startled exclamations from around the table. Branwen thought it over for a moment, then said, "It's possible. My father taught me that power always comes with a price, and the greater the power, the greater the price. This is especially true of Dark Magic."
"But he's had that body since the Tri-Wizard Tournament, nearly two years ago!" Sirius protested. "And he's never asked Snape for those potions before!"
"I could be wrong," Branwen said with a shrug. "Or perhaps the spell he used to create his body is beginning to deteriorate."
"It isn't permanent?" Tonks asked, looking shocked.
Branwen shrugged again. "No one has done such a thing within living memory; I'm not sure that anyone, even Voldemort, truly understands how such a spell really works. Dark Spells with a long-term effect usually require blood or magic--or both--at regular intervals to sustain them."
"If that's true," Sirius said excitedly, "if old Voldie's losing his strength, then that means he's vulnerable! We might have a chance to defeat him!"
"That also makes him very dangerous," Snape warned. "It could make him desperate. He's kept a low profile since his return, but if he needs to sustain the spell keeping him alive--or embodied, rather--he might start killing victims again in Blood Magic rituals. Or he might get desperate enough to try and strike out at Potter."
Sirius went pale, and Lupin reminded him in a quiet voice, "And Harry is the one who must defeat him. We can help fight the Death Eaters, but Harry is the one who must face down Voldemort, one-on-one, and I'm not sure he's ready for that yet."
"I'm certain that he's not," Snape declared firmly.
Molly Weasley's face was as pale as Sirius's, and she looked terrified; her husband looked grim and worried. They reached out without looking and tightly clasped each other's hands.
"Very well," Dumbledore said in a grave voice. "We must be on guard, and we at Hogwarts must watch over Harry very carefully. Severus, please inform us if you hear anything more from Voldemort or the Death Eaters."
"Of course, Headmaster."
The meeting disbanded, with a very gloomy air.
***
Hagrid led his fifth-year Gryffindor-Slytherin class into the Forbidden Forest one day, his students reluctantly following behind and wondering what he had in store for them today. Something nasty with a lot of of sharp teeth, they thought gloomily, because the Gamekeeper was carrying a side of beef on his shoulder.
"I thought it was forbidden for us to enter the forest," Damien grumbled. "Hence, the name 'Forbidden' Forest."
"I'm with yeh, so it's fine," Hagrid said cheerfully. "Yeh don' have ter worry about gettin' detention."
"Well, that's very reassuring," Damien muttered sarcastically, and despite the rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor, most of the Gryffindors looked like they agreed with him.
If Dylan had been paying closer attention, he might have guessed what was coming and been able to prepare himself better. But he was distracted by thoughts of the secret Dark Arts lessons from Snape (which had tapered off after school started, but he was still tutoring them, just less frequently), which in turn reminded him of the Dark Lord and the Mark on his arm. Snape had said that the Dark Lord wanted them to learn these spells, and he was worried that meant Voldemort intended to Mark the other Death Eater offspring soon. He didn't really care so much about Draco and Crabbe and Goyle, although he wouldn't wish that fate on anyone, but he was very worried about Theo, who often looked frightened and tense these days, and to a lesser extent about Serafina, who seemed like a decent sort despite her odd ways. It was clear that she didn't want to follow in her father's footsteps, so she couldn't be all that bad. And on a more mundane level, he was irritated because Valentine's Day was coming up soon, and he didn't dare send a gift to Hermione. Well, maybe he could send it through Lupin, but she shared a dorm room with Parvati and Lavender, so it was probably a risk he shouldn't take, because they might happen to see her open his gift and wonder who it was from. He had seen her wearing the charm bracelet he'd given her for Christmas (minus the rose charm; it was a long shot that anyone would connect it with him, but she was probably wise to leave it off), which cheered him up slightly, but Weasley had been gazing at her with a doe-eyed look ever since the Yule Ball, and Dylan had overheard him making plans to go to Hogsmeade with Hermione and Potter. It wasn't quite a date, but he suspected Weasley was trying to work up enough courage to finally make his move. It was absolutely ridiculous for Dylan, the most popular boy in the school (at least among the girls), to be jealous of homely, scruffy Weasley, but he was...
So, because he was preoccupied with his thoughts, the arrival of the Thestrals took him completely by surprise. Hagrid threw the side of beef to the ground and let out a loud, shrieking cry. A few moments later, a nearly skeletal black horse with leathery bat-like wings appeared, stared at the children with pupil-less white eyes, then bent down and tore into the meat with long, pointed fangs. Dylan gasped and took a step back; so did a Gryffindor girl named Melissa. The other students gave them a puzzled look, then they too gasped with fear and surprise when saw strips of meat being torn away from the side of beef and vanishing into thin air.
"Thestrals!" Ginny exclaimed.
"Very good, Ginny!" Hagrid said, beaming at her. "Five points ter Gryffindor."
"You can see them!" Damien exclaimed sharply, his eyes widening in surprise, and Dylan cursed himself for being so careless; he should have feigned ignorance. He had never been able to see the Thestrals before, but now he could, because he had seen Karkaroff die on Halloween night, slain by Dylan's own roses on the Dark Lord's orders.
"It figures that a Death Eater would be able to see the Thestrals," a Gryffindor boy said in a loud stage whisper. Dylan glared at the boy, but he was even more irked that Hagrid pretended not to hear the remark. Snape, Lupin, and Blackmore would have given detention or deducted points for such a remark, and McGonagall and Flitwick would at least have reprimanded the boy, but the Gamekeeper did nothing. He often caught Hagrid giving him suspicious sidelong glances, and he knew that Hagrid had been one of the staff members who had argued against admitting a known Death Eater's son to Hogwarts. In fact, Hagrid was giving him one of those sidelong glances right now. {Probably wondering who I've killed,} Dylan thought to himself darkly.
The Gryffindors were quietly asking Melissa who she had seen die, and she replied, "My great-grandmother, last summer. She was at St. Mungo's, she had been sick for a long time..." No one, not even any of the Slytherins, asked Dylan whose death he had seen; they were probably afraid of what the answer might be.
Later that night, alone in their dorm room, Damien asked hesitantly, "I didn't know you could see the Thestrals. Whose death did you see?"
"An old family friend," Dylan replied. It was not quite a lie; Karkaroff had been a comrade of Dylan's father, after all, although he didn't know if Evan Rosier had actually considered him a "friend." "He, um, had a terminal disease." Which was only half a lie; Karkaroff had not had a disease, but he had been marked for death when he tried to run from his Master and escape the Death Eaters. For all that it had taken over a year before he was actually killed, Karkaroff had been a walking dead man from the moment he fled the Triwizard Tournament.
"Oh," Damien said, looking as though he didn't quite believe Dylan's answer. But he dropped the subject and didn't bring it up again.
***
Hermione sat with Ginny in a secluded corner of the library; she wanted to get some advice from her friend, and she didn't want anyone else to overhear them. "I think Ron, well, likes me," she said in a halting voice, reluctant to voice the words aloud, as if that would make them true. Besides, it was a little awkward saying such things to Ron's sister, but she didn't have anyone else to confide in. "I mean, as more than a friend..."
Ginny smiled and rolled her eyes a little. "That's been obvious ever since your fourth year, when he got so jealous of Viktor Krum. You only just now realized?"
Hermione flushed, looking a little chagrined. "Well, I...we've been friends since first year...I never thought..." she stammered.
Ginny laughed, but in a kindly manner. "I guess it's harder to see when you're personally involved. Okay, so we know that Ron likes you. The question is, do you like him?"
"Of course I like him," Hermione said, looking a little distraught, "but as a friend! I never thought of him that way! I never even considered it a possibility..."
"Well, now that you know, is there any possibility that you could return his feelings?" Ginny asked. "Or..." She gave her friend a shrew look. "Perhaps there's someone else you like?" Hermione blushed. {Bingo,} Ginny thought.
Hermione bit her lip and began tugging nervously on her charm bracelet. "Well, sort of. But it's not...we can't...I mean, it wouldn't really work out, at least, not right now..."
When the other Gryffindor girls had admired her new bracelet, Hermione had told them that her mother had given it to her, but because Ginny had been with her when she opened the present at Sirius's house, she knew who it was really from. "Is it Dylan?" Ginny asked quietly. To her surprise, Hermione looked more frightened than embarrassed.
"You can't tell anyone that!" Hermione said in a hushed but frantic voice. "It could get Dylan in trouble!"
Ginny frowned. "I know Malfoy doesn't like to see the Slytherins associating with Gryffindors, but Pansy and Millicent seem to have become chummy with Parvati and Lavender, and Damien danced with Parvati at the ball--"
"This is different!" Hermione insisted, still whispering. "I can't talk about it--but it could be dangerous for him!"
"You can't tell me why?" Ginny asked, still frowning.
"I promised--someone--that I wouldn't tell anyone about it," Hermione said miserably.
"Okay," Ginny said, touching her hand briefly. "I trust you, and I know you have to keep your word."
"Thanks," Hermione said gratefully.
"A star-crossed romance sounds really romantic in books," Ginny continued, "but it doesn't seem like it would be very satisfying in real life. I won't try and push Ron on you just because he's my brother, but wouldn't it be more practical to go after a guy who's attainable?"
"You're so practical, Ginny," Hermione sighed.
Ginny grinned. "Funny, that's what people usually say about you!"
Hermione couldn't help but laugh. "And here I am mooning over some boy I can't have!" She touched the bracelet again. "I know Ron's a great guy, and he's one of my best friends, but...you can't make yourself fall in love with somebody just because they'd be good for you."
"I suppose you're right," Ginny said ruefully. "Though it sure would be a lot easier if we could pick and choose who we'd fall in love with! Poor Ron...try and let him down easy, okay?"
Hermione blushed again and changed the subject. "So, what about you and Harry?"
It was Ginny's turn to flush. "What do you mean?"
"Come on, you two got along so well at the Yule Ball..."
"Yeah, but he hasn't treated me any differently since then..."
"That's not really true," Hermione said. "He gets a little flustered and tongue-tied around you now."
"He's just embarrassed that I gave him that goodnight kiss," Ginny said, but she looked pleased. "Besides, I'm totally over him. I mean it was just a crush; I was infatuated with 'Famous Harry Potter,' not the real person. I didn't even really know him at the time..."
"But you know him now," Hermione pointed out. "As a real person, not the Boy Who Lived. And he knows you."
"I'm not going to waste my time chasing after some unattainable boy," Ginny said stubbornly.
"He's not so unattainable," Hermione said in a casual voice. "He's over Cho, you know. He told Michael Corner that he hoped they'd be happy together, and he seemed to mean it." She paused, then added thoughtfully, "I think he might be holding back because of Dean. They're friends, so I think he feels it would be disloyal to go after Dean's ex-girlfriend. You have to give him some time, Ginny. Boys can be so dense sometimes..."
Ginny sighed. "No kidding."
***
"Happy Valentine's Day, Severus!" Lupin sang out as he entered Snape's quarters through the fireplace, carrying a large heart-shaped box of candy.
"Happy Valentine's Day, Remus," Snape said, accepting the gift and giving him a kiss, then presented Lupin with a box of his own.
Lupin opened the box and exclaimed with pleasure, "Homemade chocolates?"
Snape grinned, looking a little sheepish. "Yes, I made them myself in my workshop."
Lupin grinned back, remembering the prank Severus, Evan, and Lyall had played on James back in third year. "These don't have any Swelling Solution in them, do they?"
Snape laughed and put his arms around Lupin, pulling him close. "No, I like your body just the way it is..."
As Lupin returned the embrace, he caught a glimpse over Snape's shoulder of a small box wrapped with a ribbon lying on Snape's desk. "What's this, Severus?" he asked in mock-suspicion. "Is someone else giving you Valentine's Day presents? You know how jealous we werewolves can get..."
"Oh, knock it off, Lupin," Snape said, stepping back with a scowl. "It's from Chizuru; you probably got one just like it. It's the custom in Japan, for women to give chocolates on Valentine's Day, not just to their sweethearts, but to their male colleagues. 'Girichoko'--'duty chocolates'. I'm sure she gave them to all the male teachers."
Lupin laughed. "Yes, I got one, too; I was just teasing you." He kissed the tip of Snape's beaky nose. "Hagrid was quite thrilled with his gift."
"Someone should have warned Chizuru that the big oaf might take it seriously," Snape said with a frown. "The way he's been drooling over her..."
"Karasu seems quite protective of her," Lupin said, unconcerned. "I'm sure he'll keep Hagrid from getting out of line." He growled playfully and bared his teeth at Snape. "Now, as I said before, werewolves tend to be jealous, and the wolf is feeling a bit neglected, what with all this talk about Chizuru..."
"You're the one who brought it up," Snape complained, then gasped as Lupin began nuzzling his throat. Lupin growled in his ear, and he completely lost his train of thought. "Uh...what were we talking about?"
"How jealous and possessive werewolves are," Lupin said in a low, husky growl, his breath tickling Snape's ear.
"Oh...right," Snape said, wrapping his arms around Lupin again. "Well, then, I suppose we'd better take care of the wolf's needs; we can't have a werewolf tearing around the school on a rampage, after all..."
"Sometimes, Severus," Lupin said affectionately, "you talk too much." He cut off Snape's words with a firm kiss, and there was no talking in the Potions Master's quarters (unless one counted wordless moans or cries of passion) for quite some time.
***
The three friends strolled through the streets of Hogsmeade, but the atmosphere was a bit tense. Ron was uncharacteristically quiet, and kept fidgeting nervously, putting his hands in his pockets, then taking them out, then putting them back in his pockets as if he didn't know what to do with them. Meanwhile, Hermione kept chattering in a falsely bright voice about nothing in particular. "It's a nice day, isn't it? So bright and sunny; a perfect day for a Hogsmeade outing. Oh, let's stop at Scrivenshaft's; I wanted to get a new quill. The black-and-gold one I bought from them last year was so nice--"
"Er, maybe later," Ron said, turning down the street heading towards Madam Puddifoot's tea shop, the customary location for trysting couples. "Why don't we, uh, stop at Puddifoot's for a, um, coffee or something?"
"You don't drink coffee," Hermione pointed out.
"For a cup of tea, then!" Ron snapped. Then blushing, he added in a milder voice, "Just for a bit. I'm, um, really thirsty."
Ron glanced at Harry, who quickly said, "Oh, I forgot I was supposed to...to...um, drop off something at the post office!"
Hermione gazed at him suspiciously. "Why don't you use Hedwig?"
"It's not my letter," Harry said, thinking frantically. "It, uh, belongs to a second-year who doesn't have his own owl. He, ah, asked me to drop it off for him. Look, why don't you two go on ahead and I'll catch up with you later, okay?"
Hermione heaved a sigh of resignation and entered the tea shop with Ron. Harry wandered off, thinking that maybe he'd stop at Zonko's or Honeydukes to kill some time. He was a little worried; he didn't think Ron's "date" was off to a good start, judging by Hermione's reluctance, and he wondered what this would do to the friendship the three of them shared. As he paused outside of Zonko's, he heard someone say, "Hi, Harry."
He looked up and said, "Oh, hi, Ginny."
"Where're Ron and Hermione?"
Harry gestured vaguely in the direction of the tea shop. "At Madam Puddifoot's."
"Poor Ron," Ginny sighed. "I hope she lets him down easy."
"You knew?" Harry asked, startled.
Ginny rolled her eyes. "It was only so obvious. But she doesn't feel the same way about him."
"Oh," Harry said, feeling completely out of the loop. He hadn't even been aware that Ron liked Hermione as more than a friend till the Yule Ball, but then again, he didn't think that Ron had been aware of that himself--consciously, anyway--for much longer than that. Besides, between his regular schoolwork, his Occlumency lessons, and worrying what Voldemort and the Death Eaters were up to, Harry had little time to ponder his friends' love lives.
"Maybe we should go check up on them," Ginny suggested.
"Uh, I'm not sure that's such a good idea," Harry said, but Ginny was already heading towards the tea shop, so Harry shrugged and followed her. They looked through the window, and saw the pair sitting at a nearby table. Hermione was speaking, with an earnest and worried expression on her face, and Ron looked crestfallen. Harry was feeling very sorry for his friend, when he saw Ginny's eyes widen in surprise and move towards another table across the room. He looked over and saw Dean Thomas sitting at a table with Susan Bones from Hufflepuff; they were smiling and leaning across the table to talk to each other, their faces almost, but not quite, touching. He looked anxiously at Ginny, but she looked more relieved than offended.
"Good!" she said. "He's finally moved on."
This made Harry feel surprisingly lighthearted, but he didn't have much time to dwell on it. Ron's expression changed from crestfallen to angry. "I suppose you're hung up on Dylan Rosier, like all the other girls!" he shouted, loud enough for Harry and Ginny to hear. The other couples in the shop looked up at them.
"Don't be silly, Ron!" Hermione retorted, beginning to look angry herself.
"It's not like he'd ever look at a Gryffindor girl!" Ron continued, as if he hadn't heard.
"I'm not going to sit here and be shouted at!" Hermione said, rising from her seat. "I'll listen to you when you're ready to be reasonable and stop talking nonsense."
"Nonsense?!" Ron spluttered, but Hermione was already stalking out of the shop. Ginny went off with her to try and comfort her. Harry tried to console Ron, without much success.
"Women," Ron said in a disgusted voice. "Why's she so hung up on a guy who doesn't want to be seen in public with her?"
"I don't think that she and Dylan--" Harry started to say.
"Whose side are you on, anyway?!" Ron asked indignantly. After that, Harry just listened without saying anything more, nodding sympathetically at suitable intervals.
***
When the Slytherins returned from Hogsmeade, the girls were giggling and Draco was smirking smugly.
"What's so funny?" Dylan asked, looking up from the card game he was playing with Theo and Blaise in the common room.
"You're so popular, Dylan," Pansy said in a singsong voice.
"Weasley and Granger were having a fight over you!" Damien said with a grin.
"Ginny and Hermione?" Dylan asked in shock.
"No, you dolt!" Draco said, still smirking. "RON Weasley!"
"He was pouring out his heart to her in Madam Puddifoot's--" Millicent said.
"Where you and Miles were getting a little cozy yourselves," Pansy said coyly.
Millicent blushed. "Never mind that now; we were talking about Weasley and Granger. So he's confessing his feelings for her, but she tells him that she only thinks of him as a friend."
"Ouch!" Damien said, wincing. "I hate the old 'lets just be friends' speech."
"Don't interrupt," Millicent scolded. "Then he starts shouting at her about how she's hung up on Dylan like all the other girls."
"ME?!" Dylan exclaimed. "Er...what did she say?"
"Oh, that he was being silly and talking nonsense, and then she walked out on him."
"I love it," Draco crowed. "Potter's two faithful sidekicks, fighting over one of us! Never thought Granger cared about anything but her homework, but I guess even she can't resist your charm, Rosier!"
"She's too much of a bookworm for my taste," Dylan said scornfully, and Draco and the girls laughed. His heart was pounding with fear, but he was careful to keep his face calm, and no one seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary.
"Eh, I don't blame her for not liking Weasley, though," Damien said, making a face.
"Well, of course," Pansy said, as if pointing out the obvious. "How could any girl, even a Gryffindor, prefer Weasley over Dylan?!"
To Dylan's relief, it never crossed anyone's mind that he might actually return Hermione's feelings, and Draco, far from being annoyed, was actually pleased at the turmoil Dylan was causing--however unintentionally--in Gryffindor House.
***
After a few weeks of Ron and Hermione not speaking to each other, Harry was at the end of his rope. He didn't know what to do, but Ginny had a very practical solution. One nice, sunny Saturday morning when everyone else was out of the dorm, Ginny brought Hermione to Ron and Harry's room.
As the two feuding friends glared at each other, Ginny said in a stern, no-nonsense voice, "This has gone on long enough! Your friendship is too valuable for you to throw it away over a petty quarrel!
"But he--" Hermione said indignantly.
"But she--" Ron protested.
"I don't care whose fault it is," Ginny interrupted. "You two are staying here until you work things out!" Then she dragged Harry out of the room--he flashed his friends a helpless, sympathetic look--and slammed the door behind her, sealing it with a ward that could only be removed from the outside of the room.
"The door's locked!" Ron said, jiggling the doorknob.
"I think she's warded it," Hermione said, sounding both annoyed and curious at the same time.
"Can't you dispel it?!"
Hermione tried, without success. "I think you have to be on the side of door on which the spell was cast. It's probably the same spell Professor Lupin taught us in class."
The two friends stared at each other. "Well..." Ron said reluctantly.
"Well..." echoed Hermione.
"Look, I'm sorry," they both started to say at once, then stopped and laughed a little despite themselves. "You first," said Ron.
"I'm sorry I hurt your feelings, Ron," Hermione said. "You're my best friend, and I really, really like you, but--"
"But not that way," Ron finished in a resigned tone. "I know; I'm sorry I yelled at you."
"It's not because you yelled at me that I was so mad," Hermione explained. "But that you said in front of all those people that I like Dylan. I told you before, Dylan would get in trouble if people found out he has a Gryffindor friend!"
"He's Snape's pet," Ron said sullenly. "Snape's not going to let him get expelled just because Malfoy gets into a snit."
"I'm not talking about that!" Hermione snapped.
Ron stared at her in confusion. "Then what are you talking about?"
Hermione bit her lip; Snape had made her promise not to tell anyone what he had told her about Dylan being in danger, but she had to make Ron understand. "Look at it logically," she said cautiously. "Dylan is a Death Eater's son. The Death Eaters are on the loose now."
"So?" Ron said, uncomprehendingly. "He should be jumping for joy."
If the door hadn't been locked with a warding spell, Hermione might have stomped out, but it was, so she took a deep breath, silently counted to ten, and tried again. "Suppose, just for one minute, that Dylan doesn't want to be a Death Eater like his father. Just for the sake of argument."
"Okay," Ron said reluctantly. "Just for the sake of argument."
"How do you think his father's old friends would feel about him getting cozy with the enemy?"
Ron's eyes widened in shock and--finally!--comprehension. "They...they wouldn't like it. Maybe they'd even..." He turned a little pale and swallowed hard. "But that's assuming he doesn't want to follow in his father's footsteps."
"People aren't always what they seem, Ron," Hermione said impatiently. "Snape isn't."
"Yeah, well, I'm still not convinced about him, either," Ron mumbled. Hermione glared at him, and he hastened to add, "But I won't talk about you and Rosier in public anymore, okay? I promise."
"Thanks," Hermione said. "There's nothing to talk about, anyway. There's nothing going on between us. Even if we wanted to...be more than friends...we couldn't. Because of the danger."
She looked so sad that Ron found himself saying, "I'm sorry," much to his surprise. But he was glad he did, because she smiled at him warmly.
"Friends?" Hermione asked, holding out her hand.
"Friends," Ron said, and shook it.
Ginny, her ear pressed against the door, grinned and gave Harry a thumbs-up, then released the warding spell.
Part 31